ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20

  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 14

GOOD QUESTION
why do I write all the time ...

SOME MILLERSBURG
of your own ...

8/24/05
the dusk comes out and takes the woods...

untitled
lifting a light to help itself ...

BLACK AND GREEN
on state road four you came down...

SEEN FROM ABOVE
and without the distraction of time...

GROCERIES
when you think you see...

I TELL YOU HOW TO GET THERE
and what it's like...

A LONG LINE
at night in the sky...

SEPTEMBER, 2005
huddled masses...

THIS TIME OF YEAR
walking early out ...

LIVING HERE
on this tail end of white river water...

11/14/05
my nails hurt from the cold ...

untitled
on the track made ...

untitled
I kept a ...

untitled
my cold clothes ...

OUR HOUSES
the town the fields the woods...

A POEM AS A PILE OF STICKS
poetry is where I have not been before...

ALSO
the flames sweep upward...

ON NOT SLEEPING
here on the less end ...

THE MIDDLE OF MY LIFE
when I reached the middle of my life ...

untitled
the guillotine cause and effect ...

1/18/06
the future of one day...

SLEPT
rain fed a fire in the roots ...

POEM
widow...

WET ALL DAY
this cold rain is our earth's ...

ALL DOGS TO GET NEW LEASH
wet when it's wet...

NIGHT/SEA
staring into the night as into a sea...

2/6/06
wood coming today ...

BEND
when I take in hand...

WORK
my books bend under the weight ...

untitled
of the world ...

PEACE
late afternoon...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM OPPEN
return ...

I HAVE GAINED NOTHING I HAVE LOST NOTHING
new moon sliver ...

2/27/06
our disobedient worries ...

MANY DAYS RAIN
driving carefully on ...

THOUGHTS
my second thoughts ...

THEFT OF LINES FROM KHLEBNIKOV
the gouges in the sides ...

TO MY BAD HABITS
when I see you I think of myself ...

ON MY READING LIST THERE IS
a history of funerals so well-written...

WRITING AT NIGHT
its chief object ...

5/24/06
chilly mornings with bright sun ...

WORSHIPPING (WITHOUT GOD)
hands clasped weight on the knees ...

STATE FOREST
the trail through deep woods in a long slope ...

MY BED OF ROSES
on my bed of roses ...

4 A.M. LIGHT SO BRIGHT IT WOKE ME
old moon ...

MAN OF DREAMS
dusk ...

untitled
into the war...

NOT OURS
rain ...

untitled
passion over ...

IMAGINATION IMAGINATION IMAGINATION
earth floats higher...

6/21/06
the sun at noon ...

NOSTALGIA
the rain is an empty city ...

SELF-PORTRAIT (WITHOUT MY FACE)
ambivalent about irony...

LOOKING
blue backs and forked tails ...

7/28/06
first bat and first star...

DRIVING ON THE NARROW ROAD
off to one side this open hill ...

UNLIFTABLE
under all the alasses shadowing me ...

VISIT TO THE CEMETERY
over by the road the careless ...

HOW FAR
built on the water waking ...

FIVE THOUGHTS BEFORE SLEEP
the sand the shore moved...

AWAY LIKE WE WANTED
above the trees ...

WE KNOW THIS
The dead are sleepless, we know this, they need no rest. With ...

INNER WORLD
the river rich in me ...

WITHOUT KINDNESS
on its stalk the corn flames towards the mouth above ...

SOMETIME IN THE SEASON


a shower blowing headlines past
randomness takes over anything you feel or say
while you think what is common to all?

having a throat you could say that
the need to eliminate you could ditto

the line of blowing
has its startles and surges
and you are no more still
or less blown

and could you be the possession of all
and understood by all
and if so the result of all this
being swept here and there
is you

maybe the only integrity
of the line we pursue
is its waver

how many times the weather
will not let us be
and when the sun goes down
its hole and clouds come over the sky

out of nowhere progress is being made
like a sudden drop in temperature
that comes with gusts
sweeping up trash and twisting
with them down the street